


this is home

by Skyuni123



Series: Brokenwood Fic Week 2020 (isolation edition) [6]
Category: The Brokenwood Mysteries
Genre: Episode: s06e03 Dead Men Don't Shoot Ducks, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: mike and kristen get that beer.coda for s06e03: dead men don't shoot ducks. contains spoilers for that episode.
Relationships: Mike Shepherd & Kristen Sims
Series: Brokenwood Fic Week 2020 (isolation edition) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758790
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	this is home

**Author's Note:**

> written for @brokenwoodfanpage's fic week - prompt was home.
> 
> i headcanon lucy lawless as mike's sister tbh.

Home. It’s more than a word, more than a location. 

Mike thinks about home, a little, when the shotgun’s being pointed at his face. It’s not his house that he thinks of, not really, but the people.

His sister, her son. 

How he’s not seen them in years. Far too long. How their faces only drift at the sides of his conscious - half a memory, if that. 

But not just them.

Kristen, mostly. Her negotiating. She’s doing well, more than well. She doesn’t deserve the situation. 

Sam. Jared.

Gina. 

Hughes, and the others down at the station. 

He snaps back to the moment when Jenny waves her gun at him again. “Pay  _ attention.” _ She yells, and this time, he’s almost sure she’s going to fire.

  
  


“Fancy a beer?” Kristen asks, still looking rattled, and he nods.

Mike doesn’t really know why.

He needs to sit down, feels he’ll fall down if he doesn’t. There’s plasterboard in his hair, itching its way through to his scalp. But he just needs to-

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number he knows from memory. He almost doesn’t think she’ll pick up.

But she  _ does.  _ Almost immediately. 

“Susan? It’s Mike.” 

And her voice calms him almost immediately.

Home. That’s almost what it feels like. 

  
  


Later, after he’s debriefed and rebriefed and told his story every single way under the sun - to Hughes, to Breen, to others - he’s allowed to go home. He showers the dust out of his pores, scrubs the smell of gunshot out of his skin.

He’s tired. Drained. Fatigued.

But he doesn’t want to sleep.

It wasn’t his first hostage situation, but it was his worst. He’d seen the pain in Jenny’s eyes, the heartbreak, the desperation - he hadn’t been sure whether she’d shoot him or herself.

So he’s not going to try to sleep.

Somehow he thinks he’ll just lie awake in bed anyway.

_ K: Still up for that beer?  _

They meet up at The Duke, a slightly more upmarket gastropub that’ll be quieter and less congratulatory than the Frog and Cheetah. The last thing Mike needs now are congratulations. He knows they’ll be all over the Courier in the morning, anyway.

Kristen’s wearing the same shirt she was hours ago, when Jenny had pointed the gun at her and forced her out of the kitchen. It sends a pang of nausea through his head, just for a moment, but he manages to calm himself before - hopefully - she notices. 

“Kristen.”

“Mike.” She says, and she looks tired too. “How are… things?”

“Somehow I think you know.” He replies, and it’s only half a joke. “Come on. I owe you a beer.”

They both go for Kereru - Mike a Tommancho, Kristen a Resonator. Mike might take a Heineken if he’s down at the Frog and Cheetah with the rest of the precinct, but he’s a bit of a hedonist when it comes down to it, and he’d rather something a little more flavourful when there’s no-one around to judge.

“Thank you.” Mike says, when they’re settled with their beers at a table right by the fire. 

Kristen jolts, a little, like she wants to stop him. “Mike-”

“I know we’re not here to talk shop, and I’m not going to, aside from this. You did everything right, Kristen, and it was only because Jenny called our bluff that things ended the way it did. You saved my life.” And that’s the truth. He’s not just saying it because he cares for her, and because he’s worried. It’s true.

“Thanks, Mike.” Kristen says, and looks down at her lap like she’s a little embarrassed. 

For all he knows, she is. 

“When I heard the gunshot I thought the worst.” She says, and still has trouble meeting his eyes.

“I can still hear the ringing in my ears.”

“It’s just good you’re not…” And she doesn’t finish the sentence, opting instead to go for a sip of her beer.

“Yeah.” 

The silence is uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable. He clears his throat, and takes a sip of his beer. “So. How is…”

The night passes surprisingly fast, and the beer hits him after not very long, making things a little warmer, a little fuzzier around the edges. The tiredness is there too, but it’s not a bad exhaustion any more, not hysterical.

He’s not going to forget about the day’s events any time soon but this… makes things a little easier.

Kristen opens up a bit as they talk, tells him awful stories about Breen’s latest exploits, and even Jean’s most notorious gossip. He even goes so far to talk a little about some of his ex-wives.

And it’s… nice.

They’ve only had one drink each by the time things are over, and Mike walks Kristen out to her car, already able to feel the chill cutting through the edge of the beer and into his fingertips.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks, as she opens her car door. 

She sighs, heavily, and puts her wallet onto the passenger seat. “I won’t sleep well tonight, probably won’t for the rest of the week - but I’m fine. Are you?”

His silence is answer enough. Honestly, he doesn’t know, won’t know until he gets into bed. 

“Mike.” She turns back to him, sleepiness and worry written all over her face. She moves forward, a little hesitant. “Can I just-”

“Yes.”

And she hugs him.

Neither of them are really huggers, he thinks. Distantly, he realises it’s probably a little against some workplace ruling, but throws caution to the wind and hugs her back.

She doesn’t smell like gunshot, and that’s comfort enough.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com)


End file.
